The Fall and Rise of a Prodigal

The Fall and Rise of a Prodigal

lifted up and perched high
lifted off into the sky
inflated, swollen , soaring
airy, bloated and floating
far above the clouds
lofty, haughty and proud.

then the clouds burst.

falling from my high place
into deep, dark, murky waters
sinking lower and lower
into grief, into despair
into agony, into sorrow
descending rapidly into misery and shame

dying and crying

rescue me….

hooked, snared and lost
grounded, detained
and chained in lockup
bleeding blood, moaning moans

over my state of affairs…

then the fallout from burst clouds began to dissipate

at dawn i was discovered,
nursed, healed, bailed and freed.
free from restriction, freed from the fetters,
freed from the chain and freed from the pain.

then I hear addiction’s call

begging me to stop by and say hello
one last fling before you go
addiction calls, addiction cries
addiction mourns her loss
and it hurts to tear away

in tears tearing i tear.
in tears tearing

i tear away.

I Picked Up My Pen and Started Writing

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I PICKED UP MY PEN AND STARTED WRITING

laid aside my swords and my guns
purchased a choir robe
donned a shepherd’s mantle
filled my scabbards with papyrus
filled my sheaths with scrolls
washed away my bloodlust
made peace my motto
made peace my song

then i picked up a pen and started writing

i wrote poems, prose and memoirs
i wrote short stories, and stories long
i wrote about anger, i wrote about injustice
and i wrote about righting wrongs,
but something wasn’t quite right
so i laid my pen down
picked up my glasses
placed the frames upon my eyes
and began to read

i read books, i read journals
i read magazines, i read ezines
i read online, i read offline
i read encyclopedias, i read dictionaries
i read fiction, i read non-fiction
i read poetry, i read prose
i read while hungry, i read while sleepy
i read after midnight, i read before dawn
and before the day was done
i journeyed

i journeyed on trains, ships and planes
i crossed state lines, i traversed provinces
i island hopped, cut straits, scaled plateaus
i jumped from peninsula to peninsula
empire to empire
commonwealth to commonwealth
continent to continent

finally after many years, after many days
after many hours, after many moments
i closed the covers of my journals, my zines
my hardbacks, my paperbacks
i landed on the shores of my desk
where the scabbards of my papyrus
and the sheaths of my scrolls lay
i pulled a sheet from the leather casing

and i picked up my pen and started writing

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Today’s Poetry Post

image

I PICKED MY PEN AND STARTED WRITING

i laid aside my swords and i sold my guns
i purchased a choir robe
i donned mantles of shepherds
peace now my motto, peace now my song

i picked up a pen and started writing
i wrote poems, prose and memoirs
then i laid the pen down
something wasn’t quite right
i picked up my glasses
and i began to read

i read books, i read journals
i read magazines, i read ezines
i read online, i read offline
my appetite was voracious
i read before dawn, i read after midnight
and then i journeyed

i journeyed on trains, ships and planes
i crossed state lines, i traversed provinces
i island hopped, i jumped
from continent to continent
finally after many years, after many days
after many hours, after many moments
i closed the covers of my books, my journals, my zines
and laid them down

and i picked up my pen and i began to write again

I Picked Up My Pen and I Started Writing

image

I PICKED UP MY PEN AND STARTED WRITING

i laid aside my swords and i sold my guns
i purchased a choir robe
i donned mantles of shepherds
peace now my motto, peace now my song

i picked up a pen and started writing
i wrote poems, prose and memoirs
then i laid the pen down
something wasn’t quite right
i picked up my glasses
and i began to read

i read books, i read journals
i read magazines, i read ezines
i read online, i read offline
my appetite was voracious
i read before dawn, i read after midnight
and then i journeyed

i journeyed on trains, ships and planes
i crossed state lines, i traversed provinces
i island hopped, i jumped
from continent to continent
finally after many years, after many days
after many hours, after many moments
i closed the covers of my books, my journals, my zines
and laid them down

and i picked up my pen and i began to write again

 

 

 

We Pursue Past Our Pain

in our various pursuits in our lifetime
from race to race, from time to time
we will fall, we will all be knocked down
nonetheless, if we can at least crawl
we crawl slowly. then we walk
and we pursue past our pain

when we are tripped by our own feet
enemies laugh, friends frown
feeling like we have been slapped by concrete
for our negligence, for our carelessness
for our lack of grit, for our lack of wit
we brush the slab away,
and we pursue past our pain

when our trust has been violated
we are wounded, we feel betrayed
when we see our chairs at the head
purloined, stolen by a friendly face
we wear a mask of tears and shame
yet we wipe our eyes as we pursue past our pain

when knife yielders slash us
when gun bearers cap us
when robbers rip us
when cons con us
when sun and ice burn us
still breathing, though bleeding

crawl if we must.
we crawl slowly. then we walk
and we pursue past our pain

Jerry’s Patio Garden – This Week’s Post: My Vines are a Spreading

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This week’s picture: my vines are a spreading!

2016 update

My one pot of cucumbers are coming along! I expect those flowers to bloom soon!

Back to my childhood garden in 1966

It was late May and school would soon be over! Those flowers on the vegetable plants, that show up first, were blooming all over the bloomin place! I was happy though. According to my uncle, this meant progress. It also meant that it was time to break up some more cow chips, crush them up and spread the fine crumbles into the soil. Cow chips, you say? Cow manure, most times, resemble large round flat shaped chips, hence the term cow chips. They made great fertilizer and that is all I am going to say on that subject!

Moving right along! It was also time to pull up more weeds from my garden! I learned that gardening is more than just planting veggie seeds. There was constant maintenance as well. Between hauling water, chopping wood, homework and gardening, my childhood agenda was quite full.

Nevertheless, there was time for recreation in the rural south too. We played stickball, we played dodgeball and we played hide and seek. Again, I was a fourth grader and I enjoyed playing much more then I enjoyed work, just like any other fourth grader. I got into a little hot water during one episode of hide and seek. It all had to do with Carla Simpson. Carla was in 3rd grade. She was cute, shorter than me, very quiet yet quick of wit -especially when it came to giving me well deserved grief for some of my childish mischievous ways.  Most of all however and in my mine at the time, the mostest beautiful girl in the world.

We were in a hot and heavy game of hide and seek. The forest area, commonly referred to as “the woods” were always off limits to us elementary school kids. Saturday afternoons in the woods were reserved for the Junior and Senior high schoolers of the rural south. Anyhow we had plenty places to hide in, and I chose a spot behind an old 58 Chevy that was no longer running and sitting on top of four concrete blocks. I was tired on that day and really did not feel like searching hard for a hiding place. Nonetheless, I was having great fun. It was like I was hiding in plain sight. All the first graders, all the second graders third, fourth, fifth and sixth graders were out there and they all passed right by me without noticing me. All except Carla Simpson. She found me. Immediately, we began to throw verbal jabs at each other. “It figures” she snapped, “that you would find the easiest place to find you.”

“It figures you would be the only one to find me”, I responded.  We both were looking at each other and smiling as we taunted each other with barbs.  The more we taunted, the closer we became until finally, out of nowhere, we leaned toward each other and kissed.  It was just a light peck of the lips but electrifying for a moment.  Until.  “Ooooh, Ooooh Jerry kissed Carla!”  I heard from the chorus of voices right behind us!  “We are going to tell!  We are going to tell!” A few of my cousins and a few of the neighborohood kids who were running around during the high intensity high and seek game suddenly came upon us as we were pecking each other on the lips.  Now in retrospect, we kissed each other but the neighborhood kids interpreted the whole thing as me kissing Carla.  “Jerry kissed Carla!  We are going to tell!  We are going to tell! was the resounding chorus over and over again.  Carla was long gone by the second stanza of that chorus and I finally walked away towards “the woods”.

I figured that I was in hot water.  They would surely tell my mother, who just happened to have just arrived from the big city of Greenville.  (at least it was big in my eyes at the time, i would learn later in life that it was quite small).  My family had moved back to the big city after having spent a few years in the rural area outside of Columbia.  I was left with my aunt just to finish out the school year.  My mother had come down from Greenville for a few days to take care of some business.   There was no telling how she would respond if the neighborhood kids told her what I had just done.

I was in the woods looking for what my parents called a hickory.  A hickory was a small switch that some parents in the south used to enforce discipline, correction and mild punishment for misdeeds of children.  The less proper term was called a whipping.   The switch was a very thin, long twig from a bush with the leaves pulled off of it.  A whipping from a loving parent was mostly a mild stinging that hurt your feelings more than it did your flesh.

I was now in the woods, searching for the largest hickory I could find.  I found a small branch.  I did not bother to strip the leaves off.  I left the woods and walked straight to the house into the kitchen where my mother was stripping some collards from their stems.  I threw the rather large hickory on the table, looked at her and said, “Beat me now”.  My mother, stunned, looked at me and asked, “What?”  “Beat me now”, i said again.  “Ok, boy you need to tell me what this is all about”, she said as she glared at me.  “Beat me now”, I persisted.  “Child”, she responded, “you getting on my nerve! What is this about?”

“I kissed Carla”, I said.  For a brief moment there was a glint of a smile on my mother’s face.  She picked up the miniature tree limb, broke it in two and threw it into the wood pile and then said to me, now really smiling, “Boy get out of here before I kill you.”   ….and off i ran, hearing her chuckle in the background.

Stay tuned this weekend for the next chapter of “Jerry’s Patio Garden”.